


Grooming

by archangelwithashotgun



Series: Tumblr Prompts [36]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Injury, Kissing, M/M, One Shot, Tumblr Prompt, Wing Grooming, preening
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 11:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6852676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archangelwithashotgun/pseuds/archangelwithashotgun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt: Destiel and "Patching a wound."</p>
<p>Dean notices that Castiel's wings are a little worse for wear, and decides to do something about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grooming

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean muttered, pressing down a bit more firmly on the gash stemming from the wing joint to the top edge of Castiel’s wings. Fortunately, the bleeding appeared to have finally stopped, but Dean continued to add pressure to the wound, and in doing so he was able to take stock of the rest of Castiel’s wings. He was not happy with what he saw. “How the hell did you let it get this bad?”

Castiel’s wings were, under normal conditions, visibly sleek and smooth to the touch. When Dean had first seen them, Castiel’s midnight feathers were quite honestly the most beautiful sight he had ever taken in, reflecting all sorts of different colors under the light of the sun, fierce and gentle all in one viewing.

Now his wings were in a state of extreme disarray. All around the wings, feathers were bent and singed and curled inward. Some were removed completely, but were stuck on the large areas of the wings that were matted down with dried blood and debris. The color wasn’t even the same, the beautiful midnight hue paling down to a charcoal tint.

Castiel shifted, his currently uninjured wing fluttering in discomfort.

“Back in Heaven, angels would take to grooming each other’s wings so that this type of accumulation does not occur,” Castiel said, gesturing to his wing. “I, however…”

“You’re cut off from Heaven, so you’re cut off from the grooming,” Dean said, nodding in understanding. “Got it. But this can’t be comfortable, Cas.”

“It isn’t,” Castiel admitted lowly.

Dean’s eyes locked on to the back of Castiel’s head, and he made up his mind. Once definitive that the wound had stopped bleeding, he carefully cleaned out the gash and disinfected it, murmuring out apologies at every wince from the angel. Once he wrapped up the injury with a makeshift bandage made from old T-shirts, Dean walked around to Castiel’s front and held up a finger.

“Not yet,” he said, stopping Castiel from returning his wings to their hidden dimensional plane. “Just… not yet. Stay put.”

Without another word, Dean walked out of his room. Moments later, he returned holding a basin of water and had a bar of soap, a sponge, and a towel under his arms.

“Dean?” Cas inquired, his brows furrowing.

“I’m no angel,” Dean said, placing the basin down on the nightstand and dropping the items onto the mattress. He turned to Castiel, looking a little nervous. “But if you’d like… I can help clean and fix your wings. Like you said, it’s not comfortable, and I wanna help.”

Castiel looked oddly touched for a moment before he nodded his consent, stretching out the uninjured wing first. Dean held back a smirk at the barely restrained eagerness shining in Castiel’s eyes. He grabbed the sponge, dipped it in water, lathered it up with soap, and got to work.

Castiel’s wings were easily compliant with Dean’s caring actions, much to Dean’s surprise. There had to be some significant difference between an angel’s wings and human flesh, so Dean didn’t know what to expect. But the feathers adapted to what Dean needed; they stayed firm and strong when Dean ran the sponge over the matted areas to clean away the blood, but they also loosened when Dean straightened them out and when he ran his fingers through the wings to remove the feathers beyond help.

As if Castiel could read this thoughts, the angel suddenly said, “They respond well to you.”

“What?”

“My wings.” Castiel looked over his shoulder, smiling softly at Dean. “They respond well to you.”

Dean couldn’t hold back a pleased grin at that declaration, leaning down to press a brief kiss to Castiel’s bare shoulder before moving away to continue his treatment.

It was about an hour later when Dean finally finished, gently patting the wings dry with the towel. He wasn’t able to get the area surrounding the wound for fear of injuring Castiel further, but he got the majority of the appendage before coming to a finish.

“Like I said,” Dean said, rubbing the nape of his neck as Castiel hid his wings away. “I’m no angel, so I’m sorry if they aren’t as… Well, I mean—“

“You did exceptionally well, Dean,” Castiel soothed, standing up and reaching out to gently curl his hand around Dean’s wrist. His thumb caressing the back of Dean’s forearm, and Castiel’s cerulean orbs gleamed with happiness as they met gazes. “Thank you.”

Dean cleared his throat, feeling a combination of awkward and giddy from the praise. “Yeah, well… If it ever gets this bad again, you let me know, okay?”

Castiel nodding, smiling. He stepped forward and leaned in to press a chaste kiss to Dean’s lips. “I promise,” he murmured against the hunter’s mouth.


End file.
